Alfred and the Masque of the Red Death
by Feeore
Summary: Alfred had been invited to a party in the neighboring Prince's castle. Reluctant to go he finds himself standing before the castle.


So this was an assignment for my Honors English class and i thought it would be a fun idea to see what you guy's thought of it. SO! I hope you enjoy my righting. I do not Own Hetalia or The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe.

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Alfred stared at the huge castle that stood in front of him. He sighed, not sure why he had accepted the invitation of the pretentious prince. Upon walking in this extravagant castle Alfred was welcomed by pretty maids in modest long gowns. "Welcome sir. All guests are to be escorted to the main ball room," One of the maids told him, "Please. Follow me." She began to walk down the confusing corridors of the main hall. Paintings of what seemed like dreadfully boring monarchs hung on the green pastel walls. As he followed the maid he began to drift in thought, why had he come? It wasn't his sort of thing to travel to a different country just so he could get to the prince's castle. "This wasn't a good idea but," He thought, "I do love parties." "Hey, Watch where you're going," a man in a grey suit told him. Without realizing it Alfred had run into this stranger. Taking a step back he raised his hand politely and apologized, "I'm sorry; I guess I was just lost in thought." He laughed and held his hand out, "My name is Alfred F. Jones." The stranger looked at him reluctantly and said, "Nice to meet you, my name is Arthur Kirkland," He looked around the ball room they had entered a few moments ago, "Silly isn't it? Trying to escape something that is inevitable." He walked away from Alfred, leaving him to contemplate what he had just said; the inevitability, of what? Their lives? He shook it off and joined the others that where dancing and enjoying themselves in the ball room; women in big eccentric gowns swooned as the handsome men in suits spoke with them. He took a step towards the table, watched as the Prince welcomed his chatty guest. "Welcome coveted friends! Here we shall escape the worries of the outside world. I hope you all enjoy yourselves," The Prince said as he bowed; everyone cheered for him, except Alfred. He walked around, running his finger along the long table that was covered with delicacies. The table cloth was rough, but fine; he picked up a strawberry and placed it in his mouth. The small fruit was rare and its small seeds felt rough against his tongue. "Hello, I see you've found the food," someone had said to Alfred. He turned around to find Arthur staring at him, amusingly. "Yes, it has been a while since I've eaten a strawberry." He told him, trying to seem as cool and collected as Arthur. He was about to reply to Alfred's attempt at a witty comment when the clock began to chime. Everyone grew quiet as it continued to do so. Before it was unnoticeable; but now when it rang it was as if the great grandfather clock was screaming, the chimes grew louder and louder. Then, they stopped. It seemed as if the entire room had let out a sigh of relief as the guest continued on to whatever they had been doing before the clock had struck 11pm. "Well that was rather strange," Arthur said under his breathe. "I must be going," Arthur said, bowing to Alfred, "This has all gotten very frightful and I do believe there is something wrong here." He walked away. He said the words that Alfred had been pushing to the back of his mind the entire night. There was something wrong here. He walked past the women that had practically begged Alfred for a dance, even though he had turned them all down. He went to explore the rest of the castle. Wandering about from room to room; but after searching around, only to find nothing peculiar he made his way back to the ball room. he stopped, something was different. It grew quiet. The guest had stopped making noise, and then came the smell. The smell of something that was raw. It smelled of iron and Alfred could taste it on his tongue. "Blood?" He whispered to himself. He guided his fingers to his mouth; blood was trickling down from his lips. Then came the ear piercing scream of those in the ball room. "The Prince is dead," A woman shrieked. The sound of bodies falling to the ground came next. He leaned down against the stairs railing to see what was happening. Something dressed in a black robe was holding a woman from her neck above him. The eyes of this demon glowed a crimson red and then flickered to a monstrous yellow. He watched all of those who came to celebrate die, one by one. Blood flowing from their ears, mouths, even their eye whites had turned the color of the blood they held. He pressed his hand to his mouth, holding back the vomit that was boiling in his throat. The smell had grown unbearable; and then it all went black. When Alfred woke up he had automatically assumed that he was dead. He ran his fingers through his hair, only to find blood on his fingers. He had hit his head against the railing, down the stairs. He stood up, feeling dizzy, and walked down the stairs. Careful not to step on any of the poor unfortunate souls that lay on the ground covered in blood. "Am I dead as well," Alfred asked the bitter air. "I'm afraid not old chap," a voice answered him. "You and I seem to be the only ones who survived this massacre." Alfred looked around for the voice, to find the one that had told him that he was leaving, for something was not right in the party. "Arthur? How did you survive? How did I survive?" Arthur shook his head, walking closer to Alfred; his hands behind his back. "We were wiser than these foolish people. We had noticed that there was something that was not right once the clock had grown mad. So we hid." Alfred placed his hand on his forehead, trying to make sense of it all; realization hit. "We cannot escape that, which is inevitable." Arthur nodded. "You did not want to come here, did you?" Alfred shook his head as Arthur continued, "Nor did I, and that is why we were not meant to die here with the other guest. We survived because we have other things yet to accomplish. And with that said, I must go back to England. Good-bye. Perhaps we will cross paths again." Arthur bowed and Alfred watched as he walked out the front door. Where would he go now? Alfred did not know, but he was going to figure it out as he went along.


End file.
